


no love like your love

by alittlebitoftheuniverse, alrightamanda



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, i suck at writing long pieces so we're just gonna put a bunch of fluff pieces in here, soft moments compilation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitoftheuniverse/pseuds/alittlebitoftheuniverse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/alrightamanda/pseuds/alrightamanda
Summary: Soft moments between Ronan and Lovett throughout the years.
Relationships: Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	no love like your love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how many chapters are gonna be added to this, but we'll see how this goes!
> 
> For the first piece, I learned ronan can play guitar and it fucking destroyed me. Enjoy!

There’s a slump to Jon’s shoulders as he steps out of his car. A meeting gone hours longer than it should have has left him with an uncomfortable tightness in his neck, an ache in his back. And the expectation that Ronan will already be asleep when he came in.

He hopes he will be, at least, he’d stepped out of the meeting to call him and let him know he’d be home late, that he shouldn’t try to stay up and wait for him. The entryway is dark as he walks in, so he tries to be quiet as he toes off his shoes and hangs up his jacket.

He’s halfway up the stairs when he sees the light coming from their bedroom. A little farther and he can hear music, softly plucked out on guitar strings. His steps quicken a little so he can get to the doorway, door left ajar. Ronan is sitting on the edge of the bed, illuminated by lamplight. His guitar is in his hands, and Pundit is sitting at his feet, gazing up at him as her tail wags contentedly. He’s smiling softly, eyes half closed.

_“My heart gets lost like a message  
My head is on the clouds  
And I don't get it  
And so I'm fashionably numb  
Sometimes it helps to forget  
Where we come from…”_

Jon knows he should go in, definitely should not be standing in the doorway staring at his fiancé like a creep, but he can’t bring himself to move, to interrupt the warm golden bubble of their room, of Pundit and Ronan and the song he’s singing. And just as it’s getting really ridiculous and he’s really going to have to move, Ronan’s smile widens and his eyes open.

“You can come in, you know.”

Jon snorts, pushing the door open so he’s completely visible, smiling sheepishly. “You both just looked so cute, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Ronan grins crookedly. “Since when have you been afraid of interrupting people?” When Jon opens his mouth to protest, Ronan laughs. “Get over here, Jonathan, we’ve missed you.” And Jon doesn’t hesitate to bound across the room onto the bed and into Ronan’s arms, the guitar carefully laid down next to the bed. For a long moment they just cling to each other, letting the stress of the day melt down to nothing as they match their breathing, pundit lying across their legs, tail thumping rhythmically against the duvet.

“Bad day?” Ronan asks, voice muffled by Jon’s shirt.

“Not bad,” Jon sighs. “Just long. I missed you,” he says, and he does not say, _I always miss you._ Ronan seems to know, though, from the way he burrows closer, pressing a kiss to Jon’s shoulder. His fingers are drumming lightly on Jon’s spine, slipped under the hem of his shirt.

“Sleep?” Ronan suggests.

Jon grimaces at the thought of untangling himself, of beginning the process of getting ready for bed. He grabs the crocheted blanket from the foot of the bed instead, draping it over all three of them and making Ronan laugh.

“That works too.” He presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead, right between his eyebrows, his nose, his mouth. “I’m right here, baby. Go to sleep.”

And Jon does.


End file.
